𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 | 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐍

river cartwright was under lockdown. the whole of slough house was under lockdown. except for roddy, who had been taken to the park under the belief he’d been compromised, and shirley, who was out getting breakfast.

being relegated to jackson lamb’s “care” already felt like babysitting, so the presence of emma flyte and three dogs only rubbed salt into the wound. their phones had been confiscated, doors shut, windows locked and guns commandeered.

now, river is sat on the windowsill, playing with a rubber band between his fingers like a scolded student in detention. coe lurks in the corner, headphones in as usual, and lamb is lounged in his desk chair, feet covered by fraying socks planted on the surface. catherine is sat in the freaking chair beside the desk, hands clasped politely in her lap.

his eyes flick to you, like they tend to do these days. your eyes haven’t left the window, watching chaos engulf the city you know so well. he can’t blame you, with everyone’s lives turned upside with the events of the past few days. the abbotsfield shooting, the attempt on roddy, the fuel tampering, and now, the regent’s park zoo bomb. it’s a sharp turn from the usual nothing that you’re all used to in slough house.

emma flyte doesn’t stop talking despite the waning interest, and river’s eyes don’t leave your figure. the atmosphere is hostile, at best.